


Call Me Maybe

by garbagesinboy



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bonding, Codependency, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, I mean aside from Peter being underage and all, M/M, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Not Canon Compliant, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Praise Kink, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony didn't even know he was depressed like that but damn, Tony has Bipolar Disorder, Tragic Teenage Crush, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, because everytime Tony tells Peter he did good poor kid pops a boner, but a surprisingly healthy relationship eventually?, but like in a non-sexual way, crippling loneliness, fight me about it, questionable morals
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-05-03 03:46:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14560185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/garbagesinboy/pseuds/garbagesinboy
Summary: Following the disaster and a half that was the Vulture Incident, Peter might have PTSD and to be quite honest, Tony probably does too and learning to cope as a couples activity IS VALID (to a degree?). Late night phone calls, tragically crushing on your father figure, sleepovers, talking to you is probably the highlight of my year, I thought this was idol-worship but I guess its more like Daddy Issues™, you’re Really Really Young but hardly anyone else cares about me much these days so I Really Really need you, lets distract each other and not talk about our feelings, aw shit are we co-dependent? Let's TALK about our feelings so we can actually get some god damn sleep once in a while, can I pick you up from school? can I make you coffee in the mornings? can we work this out? And they learn to get better, together.





	1. When I needed You

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there :V I started writing this because I kind of wanted something where both Peter and Tony are kind of equally co-dependant on each other for emotional support, and also some shameful pining, and poor decision making, and lots of stuff tbh. This is gonna get angst-y, but also fluffy and probably a little morally questionable. But this is Starker, come on, what else could you expect? This is gonna be kind of a disaster, but like, in the best ways. This story starts in the week after SMHC, and explores how Peter is dealing with what happened to him, and how Tony is (not) dealing with what went down in CACW. Also, just to clarify, this fic is tagged M because this will be a very intimate and definitely inappropriate relationship between a minor and an adult. Tony is currently 39 in this, Peter is 15. HOWEVER, I dont really plan on writing anything sexually explicit between them for this? Its more exploring how their relationship takes shape, and how their lives become very intertwined. So no fucking, but i can't honestly say their relationship is in anyway appropriate. Check the A/N at the end of this chap for an explanation of the minor changes I made to this universe for the sake of Gay Nonsense
> 
> I would like to formally apologize to God, My Mom, Tom Holland, Carly Rae Jepsen, and anyone who reads this. Enjoy!

The nightmares, surprisingly, don’t start until little over a week after it all happened. 8 whole days later, and it finally finally occurs to Peter that, 'well shit, I could have died’. As he sits, bolt upright in bed drenched in sweat and anxiety, a small part of his panic-stricken brain ponders why he hadn’t freaked out sooner.

He supposes that for the past 8 days he was still in more or less a state of shock. In all honesty, he hadn’t even thought about what had happened to him much at all. His whole life had been greatly unsettled for the past few weeks. The day immediately after taking down Vulture, he’d feigned ill and May let him stay home. He slept dreamlessly the whole day, recovering mostly, and spent much of the afternoon and evening on the phone with Ned, filling him in on what had happened after he lost contact and assuring him that Yes he was alive, No not a ghost.

After that, it was back to school, a regular day if not for the shock and rumors surrounding poor Liz. Peter felt a ridiculous level of guilt in that regard, but there wasn’t much he could do to help at this point. Then there was a brief trip upstate with Happy and a very unexpected surprise from Mr. Stark (which he politely refused), and then he’d been careless as usual and May had found out about everything and taken it about as well as any distraught parent could. Caught him crawling in through the window, of course he’d forgotten to close his damn door.

She’d cried. A lot. Which Peter admittedly felt awful about. She’d been screaming at first, full of seething rage and yelling about lying to her and being irresponsible and danger and danger and… and then very quickly devolved into tears and Peter definitely didn’t know how to deal with that. All the times he’d imagined how May would find out and how she’d take it, he’d never really considered how to handle uncontrollable sobbing. He sat there on the couch trying to soothe his weeping aunt and he knew why it was hard for her. They’d lost everyone but each other. Peter didn’t have anyone but May, and May didn’t have anyone but Peter. May had of course seen the news, the report of Spiderman and the plane crash and the fight. If something had happened to him, if Peter had died…

But then he’d explained himself, explained why he had to, why he was needed now, that this was a blessing a calling a gift and he was doing it for Ben and doing it for Queens and maybe slightly doing it for himself. She’d stopped crying, slowly, after that. She calmed her breathing to something steadier and then just… stared at him. For a while. Like she was really seeing him for the first time. She looked like what she was seeing made her very sad. May eventually bent to teenage determination and Peter’s desperation and acquiesced to letting him continue to be A Friendly Neighborhood Spiderman (with limits of course). And then she’d hugged him, warm and loving and only slightly bone-crushing, for what felt like an hour, and informed him that if he ever ever lied to her again he’d be grounded till college.

He took the next few days off from crime-fighting, partly for the sake of May’s sanity and partly because ow ow being crushed by a building and getting caught in a plane crash actually bruised quite a bit and holy shit he was so sore.

He gave Happy a call as soon as he got home from school the next day and informed him of his short vacation from superhero-ing, if only to keep up the old-habit of daily reporting. The call went unanswered, as usual, and Peter was not surprised (he definitely was not disappointed, nope). He left a voicemail, doing his best not to ramble, and tried not to worry that he’d made the wrong choice in rejecting Mr. Stark’s offer.

He WAS surprised hours later, however, when he received a short text while finishing up his homework. The voicemail he left Happy long forgotten, he’s working on the last physics problem, sitting in the warm afternoon sun at his desk, when his phone buzzes for his attention.

’Glad to hear you’re taking a rest. Would like to hear when you’re back in the game, kid. Btw hows school going?  
-TS’

It comes from a random number not already in his contacts, someone he doesn’t recognize. Peter rereads the text three times, confused about what it means before it finally clicks and then he loses his absolute god-damn shit.

Mr. Stark was texting him. Mr. Stark had never texted him before. Tony Billionaire-Playboy-Philanthropist-God Damn IronMan Stark was texting him and asking him about school, of all things, like he hadn’t shot down his offer to be an Avenger a little over 24hrs prior. He could practically hear Ned’s ’oh my god what is your life holy shit dude’ as his brain scrambled to think of what he could even say back to the man.

'Will do!!! I’ll probs only be off the streets for a few days. School is going great! just finishing up my homework atm’

He hits send before he can over think it, and then he overthinks it anyway. Was that too many exclamation marks? Should he have used proper grammar? Did Mr. Stark really want to hear about his school day?

He gets a text back just a few minutes later, asking about his homework, if he needed any help, and what kind of classes he’s in this year. He responds in kind as he puts away his books. Peter and Mr. Stark text back and forth for the better part of the evening, Tony encouraging him to get back into his extracurriculars and wondering about his college plans. Its… oddly comfortable. It’s around six when Mr. Stark says he has somewhere to be, he has to go, but Peter should text him again soon.

'Always happy to hear from you, kid. We’ll talk more tomorrow. Night’

Peter stares completely baffled by the last text he receives from the man for at least five minutes before he saves the phone number to his contacts.

Sure enough, Mr. Stark does text him again, the very next day and they talk about nothing but robots and engineering for a little over an hour. They text every day in fact, for the rest of the week. Peter can admit to himself that yes, becoming Texting Buddies with his childhood hero and kind-of mentor is probably at least the second coolest thing to ever happen in his life. It quickly becomes part of Peter’s daily routine. Get out of class, text Mr. Stark for a while as he does his homework, have dinner with May, give Ned a call before bed to talk about their usual nerd stuff.

But routines like that leave Peter restless pretty quickly. So 8 days after his fight with Vulture, Peter gets out of school, says a quick goodbye to Ned and MJ, and as he’s hastily changing in a back alley, texts Mr. Stark that he’ll be going back out that day, and he’ll be sure to give him a report about his heroism later.

'If you’re sure you’re ready kid. Remember, no need to rush. Call me if you need me.’

Peter affirms that he’s good and he’ll reach out if there’s trouble, and then calls up May to tell her he’s going out, because he promised he’d always call beforehand, just in case. Safety measures and what not. After much worrying and complaint, she lets him go with the promise that he’ll be home in time for dinner, for sure.

Over the course of the week, May had realized that it was Tony who’d given Peter the suit, who’d whisked him off to Germany and who’d essentially facilitated his big fight with Vulture. She hadn’t taken kindly to that, demanding his number from Peter 2 days ago and then yelling at him over the phone for close to an hour. How she’d managed to do that without stopping for air was absolutely terrifying to Peter. Mr. Stark took it in stride, apparently very used to getting yelled at by irate women by now, and eventually managed to calm her by explaining all the many many safety measures he’d put into the suit, and by promising to give her unrestricted access to the location tracker, so she’d always be able to know where Peter was when he was out 'spider-ing’. Sure enough, in their mailbox the next morning was a Starkphone, GPS interface already installed and live-tracking the suit’s location. May seemed to calm a bit more about the whole ’Spiderman Thing’ after that, though Peter highly doubted she’d warm to Mr. Stark for quite some time.

Peter had been mortified. Even thinking about it still made his ears turn red with shame. Mr. Stark was not only his personal hero and now kind-of friend, but also a really cool person in general and his aunt had literally scolded him on the phone. But Mr. Stark insisted that it was fine, really, kind of funny, and that Peter should be happy to have a guardian who cared about him enough to scold a superhero over him. Peter still tries not to think about it too hard though, because he might die of embarrassment.

With May well informed and properly assured of what he’d be up to this afternoon, Peter sets off to patrol the neighborhood. He’s glad he choose today, a Friday, because it means no homework to worry about and he can just focus on getting back into the swing of things.

Patrol is about the usual level of uneventful. He stops a purse snatcher. Rescues an errant balloon caught in a power line for a little girl. A couple of middle school aged kids spot him and ask for a selfie for Instagram. All in all, a great day back out on the streets. He spends a majority of the afternoon just swinging between buildings, enjoying the sharp thrill and swoop in his gut as he drops a few feet before throwing out his next line and catching himself. He sits on the ledge of a tall building watching the sunset and shoots May a text that he’ll be home soon. He gives Mr. Stark a brief report of his day, and receives a thumbs up emoji in response. Peter’s come to realize that Mr. Stark only texts in emojis if he’s busy at the moment, so he’ll probably just hear more from him tomorrow.

Peter heads home, has dinner with May, showers, and heads to sleep. All in all, a good day. A great day really. His head hits the pillows, and after today's physical exertions it doesn’t take too long for sleep to come for him. He dreams that night, unfortunately.

_There’s so much crushing weight on him. It’s Dark He’s suffocating he’s suffocating he’s breathing in dust and water is dripping on his face and he’s so alone here. Somewhere off in the distance he here’s someone cackle hatefully, Vulture he’s fighting Vulture but he can’t move now why can’t he move? why is it so heavy someone help someone anyone Mr.Stark help me help me help_

He makes a strangled, frightened sound as he shoots upright in bed, breathing heavy. It’s dark here, only a thin beam of moonlight streaking through his closed curtains. He’s home, in his bed, but he’s not. He’s in an empty warehouse with heavy pillars and steel beams, he’s 20,000 feet in the air at 1000 miles per hour. He’s drenched in sweat and shivering and his body is screaming that he’s in danger he’s going to die, but there’s no one here, it’s just him, just Peter, alone, in the quiet dark of his room. He can hear every sound in his building right now, every creak and every person. it’s much too much and he knows this is a panic attack. Has had them before, when he first got his powers and it was so overwhelming, his senses all tuned to a new painful degree. He’s so, so cold and shaking even though it should be fairly warm in his room. He can’t seem to catch his breath.

_'Calm down calm down calm down you’re okay oh god I could have died but I’m okay right oh god how could I have been so stupid I could have died I’m okay I’m okay but I could have been crushed or fallen off the plane am I crazy oh my god-'_

His thoughts ramble on, too fast to focus, and his fear-frozen brain struggles, reaching for something that can soothe him, comfort him, and for some reason his mind pulls Mr. Stark’s voice, from on the tarmac in Berlin ’Kid, are you alright?’ and the hand gently rolling him over and the cold water of the lake and the suit dragging him out and then his text from earlier that day, ’call me if you need me’ and before he realizes it he’s reaching for his phone.

He’s just hoping for his voicemail, just hoping to get a message like ’You’ve reached Tony Stark, Billionaire Playboy Philanthropist-’ or something along those lines. He doesn’t know why but knows Tony’s voice is what he wants to hear now. The screen reads 3:46am as he presses the call button, there's no way he’s awake no way he’ll pick up, he doesn’t even really want to leave a message just wants to hear him-

“Peter? Hello? What’s up kid?” A very real and awake Tony Stark asks on the other end of the line and Peter freezes because of course he’d pick up. He’s still slightly shaking, still being crushed under concrete and rubble, and his throat makes a choked sound before he can get a word out.

“Are you okay? Peter?” Tony’s voice on the other end of the line asks, sounding concerned now. Why was he awake, why did he pick up why why why? Peter shakes his head, finds his words, he shouldn’t have called, he’s a mess he has to go now. He CANNOT tell Tony Stark that he called because he had a bad dream. They hardly know each other, just two kind-of friends who text sometimes and here he is waking him up at 4 in the morning because of a nightmare? No, not happening.

“Sorry, I, um. G-goodnight” he manages, rushed and still panicking, after a moment and hangs up before he can embarrass himself any more than that. Fuck. He really did that. He’s starting to breathe again now, aware of the space around him, Tony’s ’Are you okay?’ repeating in his head over and over like a mantra, bringing him down just a tiny bit. Technically, no, he’s not, but he can get there he thinks. Breathe. His hands are clutching at the comforter haphazardly pooled in his lap. He feels like he wants to cry, and he isn’t sure why. It takes him a few minutes to realize the phone in his lap says he’s got a text.

’Are you alright? Did something happen? Is it okay for me to call you back?’ The words read when he opens the message. It takes him three tries to parse what the words say, and a few more minutes to actually stop shaking enough to reply.

'imfine. Had nightmare.All good dont have to call’ he barely manages to type, still breathing a bit heavy. Regardless of what he said, the phone rings just 30 seconds later, still clutched in his hands. He jumps, startled, accidentally picks up and can’t bring himself to say a single word.

“…Kid? You there?” He hears Tony ask, sounding uncertain after almost a minute of silence. Peter takes a breath.

“Yeah”

“Okay… Okay, good. I’m here now. Just, stay with me on the line alright? Don’t hang up yet. I’m here, and you don’t have to talk if you can’t. Just… Breathe with me, can you do that? In and out” Mr. Starks voice is calm and steady coming from the receiver, far more solid than Peter feels. He takes deep, slow breaths in time with Mr. Stark’s 'ins’ and 'outs’, his voice is so assuring. He lets the older man’s soothing tone bring him back down. The shaking slows, muscles un-clench that Peter didn’t know he was holding.

“Good, good. You’re doing good Peter, very good.” And something about that warms Peter a bit. Good. He’s good. Mr. Stark says he’s good, so he must be good.

“Keep breathing, okay? Can you tell me where you are Peter? Can you talk to me now?” Mr. Stark asks slowly, patiently. At first Peter nods, before remembering that he’s not actually in the room and can’t see him.

“I’m… in my room. I’m home, I’m in bed.” Peter responds, and notes that he sounds a lot steadier than he had moments ago. He feels steadier.

“Awesome, great, you know where you are. That’s good. Didn’t need to ask you that by the way, because I definitely already tracked your phone. Just makin’ sure you’re 'all there’ ya know?” Tony says conversationally, and Peter doesn’t try to stop the chuckle that escapes him. Of course Mr. Stark would want to make him laugh. Peter hears him clear his throat on the other end of the line.

“Glad you’ve still got a sense of humor kid. But seriously, wanna clue me in on what’s going on? I get 'nightmare’ but like… do you wanna tell me about it? Not gonna force you or anything, if you don’t want to just… I’m here, ya know.” Mr. Stark says, and he sounds like he might be treading unknown territory, but he’s definitely trying. Peter sighs. He’s calm now, calm enough to feel embarrassed.

“I… It’s. Look, it’s really stupid, I was just-” He starts, but Mr. Stark cuts him off.

“Hey, no. Not stupid, never stupid. Happens to the best of us kid, it unfortunately comes with the job most of the time.” Tony says, and he sounds like he knows, personally. Like he gets it. So Peter tries again.

“…Not stupid, right. Got it. Just. Stressful? I don’t know. I think I had a panic attack. It was just… It was so real. This was the first time I dreamed about it, about what happened. I guess I just got scared. So I called you,” He manages, and feels himself turning red. Baring his soul to Mr. Stark at 4am had not been the game plan when he went to bed last night, but here he was regardless, so he barreled on. “I was just scared, like really scared, and I haven’t like, talked about this with anyone yet but I just realized that I could have, I don’t know, I don’t know what could have happened but it was horrible and I didn’t want to be alone and I thought…” He trails off, a little surprised himself where his rambling had taken him.

“Thought what, Peter?” Mr. Stark prods gently when Peter doesn’t continue. He feels his words try to catch in his throat, but forces himself to carry on.

“Thought hearing you would help,” He says, feeling vulnerable and a little bold. “I just… remembered you, in Berlin, after I hit the ground. And that night when you pulled me out of the lake. I dunno. I’m sorry. I thought I’d get your voicemail. I didn’t think you’d pick up? It's so late right now. I just wanted to hear you. I thought hearing your voice would… help?” and Tony is quiet for a moment after that. Very quiet. Peter feels like he’s terribly embarrassed himself to a man he stills definitely considers his idol. A different kind of cold fear starts to build heavy in his stomach. He shouldn’t have said that, he’s getting ready to backtrack already but Mr. Stark speaks first. 

“…Did it? Help, I mean. Did hearing me help?” He questions softly, almost unsure. Peter is a bit taken aback by that. 

“Yeah… yeah it did. You did. you helped.” He admits, feeling shy and warm inside again. Tony lets out a breath into the receiver.

“Good, that's good. Glad I could help. And… I’m glad you called me. Really,” He says, kind and soft “I’m… I’m touched that you thought of me. You can always call if you need me, don’t be sorry about it alright?”

“…Really?”

“Absolutely. Always.” Mr. Stark says, definite and assured. Peter feels safer in a way he can’t really explain because of that.

“So, do you wanna talk about it?” He asks after a moment, and Peter isn’t sure what he means.

“Talk about what?”

“About… what happened? Whatever you dreamed about?” and Peter shivers at the thought of cold-dread over taking him again. Just the thought of having to put into words, that moment with tons of concrete crashing down on him. The helplessness, The dark and the damp, the fear. Umm yeah, no.

“Uhh, no actually. Not… not right now. I, um, I honestly don’t think I can? yet? And like I said, I haven’t dreamed about it or even really thought about it before this… so um. No. If that’s okay I mean,” He starts to ramble, his mouth instinctually trying to pull him away from the rubble in his mind. He thinks he hears Mr. Stark sigh on the other end so he stops.

“If you’re sure. But we can, later, if you want too. If you need too.” He says, and Peter feels a little relieved, and also a bit sad, because if they aren’t going to talk about it then Mr. Stark will probably be ending the call soon. He hums a small affirmative sound.

“Care to talk about something else then? I’ve got a new project here in front of me you might be interested in.” Mr. Stark offers, and Peter is thrilled at the chance to keep the man on the line.

They talk for a while, Tony explaining his project, a micro-drone with AV input to recon disaster areas before actual teams get sent in. If he’s a little surprised at how well Peter can keep up with the topic, or at his legitimately helpful input, he doesn’t mention it. It’s probably the most mentally-stimulating conversation Peter’s had ever in his whole life, but that doesn’t help him suppress a tired yawn that escapes him around 5:20am.

“Woah, am I boring you there buddy?” Mr. Stark says light-heartedly. Peter can almost hear the smirk in his voice. He’s ready to protest but the voice on the line cuts him off.

“Kidding, kidding. But really, you should go. You need your beauty sleep, or you’ll get old like me.”

“You look great for your age you know.” Peter says, because apparently, his sleep-deprived brain lacks a filter. Thankfully Mr. Stark continues without missing a beat.

“Noted. Now seriously, hang up and get some rest okay?”

“Okay okay. Will do.” Peter says, but doesn’t end the call just yet. Tony doesn’t hang up on his end either.

“Mr. Stark?” he prods softly.

“… Still here, yeah.”

“Um, thanks. For staying up with me. And talking to me. And for lots of stuff.” It’s quiet on the other end for a moment, but eventually hears a throat clear and Mr. Stark responds.

“Anytime. Get some sleep now please?” And if he sounds just shy of a little flustered now, Peter is probably just imagining it.

“Sure. Yeah. Goodnigh- er. Good Morning, I guess? Bye.” He hangs up then, because part of him knows Mr. Stark would wait for him too.

Peter turns his head and peaks through the curtains at the colors just starting to bloom across the sky. He’s thankful today’s a Saturday, or he’d have to be getting up in about half an hour. Peter thinks of Mr. Stark, wonders if he’s watching the sun start to rise too, if he’ll be heading to bed as well. Thinks of how the man had talked him down from a panic attack, stayed on the line with him the whole time, and waited till he was ready to hang up. He feels that strange new warmth filling him again, but his tired brain can’t quite place his finger on what it is. His eyes feel heavy and he flops back onto his pillows. Peter is asleep in a matter of moments, and for the next few hours his dreams are dark and visionless, but with the undercurrent of a soothing, familiar voice talking him through.


	2. Cut To The Feeling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony contemplates his current state (not great?), answers a phone call (or three), and sets a date of sorts (against his better judgement).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello hello welcome to chapter 2 my friend. the disaster continues, this time from Tony's point of view! so thats fun and depressing :-) this is where most of my explanations from the A/N in the last chapter come in to play, honestly if i was smart i would have just put it at the end of this one but i really am a dumb gay bitch yall. Enjoy the chap xoxo

Peter’s nightmares apparently don’t start until little over a week after it all happened. Its 8 nights after his fight with Toomes that the kid finally calls, panicking and stressed. Tony could admit he was surprised by how long it took, honestly. It could have just been chalked up to aftershock, or the kid being busy. For a few days, Tony may have even convinced himself that Peter could get off scott-free, without the mess of  _ Trauma and Nightmares _ that had come to burden the older man. But 8 days later, the phone call coming in near 4am tells him that no, not even Parker Luck would hold out forever.

Tony was a sensible guy, with a personal understanding of how being a hero could get you pretty fucked up. Fighting for the public good unfortunately wasn’t good for ones mental health it seemed. He figured that, eventually, Peter would need some moral support. He’d been through an awful lot, after all. And seeing as how not a ton of people knew about his secret, and Tony was (in his eyes) mostly responsible for what happened to the kid, he decided that fell on him.

Tony wasn’t  _ entirely _ sure the young hero would want to come to him first, considering the kid barely knew him, and he had an aunt and best friend that would more than likely step up if need be, even if they couldn’t exactly relate to his situation. But if Peter needed to talk to someone who ‘gets it’, he was absolutely going to do his best to be there. And if it was partly because Tony was worried Peter would end up like him, slightly broken and incredibly tired, if he didn’t have at least someone to talk to, well, that just wasn’t anything he needed to think about.

After Germany and before the Vulture, Tony wanted to keep Peter out of anymore dangerous heroism. He figured the less he was involved with the kid, the better. Tony was _ well aware _ of his track record of ruining other people’s lives, he wanted to at least give Peter a fair shot of growing up okay. Germany had been a clusterfuck and a half. Seeing the kid get smacked down onto the tarmac had made his blood run cold, because  _ holy shit he could have gotten this teenager killed _ . Yeah, no, Tony Stark really didn’t anymore guilt in his life thanks. So he figured Peter Parker would be better off the less he saw of him. He kept tabs on him, but didn’t want to get any more involved than he already had. He took his daily voicemails from Happy, but never touched base with the kid himself. And look how well that had worked out.

Tony had been  _ profoundly wrong _ in that judgement call, and had almost lead the kid to his death  _ again _ .

Obviously, Peter needed more than just a Distant But Watchful Eye. If Tony was being honest with himself, Peter  _ deserved  _ more. He was too good of a kid to fuck up, Tony had already fucked up  _ plenty _ . So after Happy forwarded him the latest voicemail, Tony decided to reach out to him a little, let the kid know he could talk to him. Just shot him a quick text, not really expecting to have much of a conversation or anything, but he wanted to let the kid know he was available to talk. He’d initially just thought of communicating with Peter regularly as part of his new obligations as the responsible adult, so Tony had been genuinely surprised to find how much he’d liked talking to him. Peter was smart, witty, one of the few people who could actually keep up with Tony’s admittedly overwhelming conversational style. It had been…  _ nice?  _ And it made Tony startlingly aware of how shitty the past few months had been. Things had been… quiet for the man, following the team’s little spat.

Of the Avengers, it had just been Vision, Rhodey, and Tony left. Natasha had swung by briefly a few times, but things were still tough between them ( _ understandably so _ , in Tony’s opinion), but otherwise the compound was fairly empty. Tony shoved the phone Steve gave him somewhere, and made no attempts to reach out to the others when he learned of their escape (though, thats not to say he didn’t uses his vast resources and network to find out where they were hiding to make sure they were all okay). He didn’t to hang out too often with his remaining team mates, either.

Rhodey was of course still Tony’s best friend, but between his frequent physical therapy appointments and Tony’s overwhelming guilt, they didn’t get to talk as much these days outside of his bionic-leg maintenance checks. And conversation with Vision was an impossible task, for a variety of reasons Tony couldn’t even  _ begin _ to get into. They worked together fairly well on Avengers missions, but didn’t really click outside of that. Talking to JARVIS’s voice coming out of someone who was distinctly not JARVIS was just too weird, and Tony was still mourning his AI and old friend honestly. Plus, Vision seemed to be busy moping about Wanda’s departure, so Tony mostly left him too it. As such, the quiet of the compound was often entirely overwhelming. In the end, Tony decided not to sell the Tower off, instead refitting it for Stark Industries work (technically its original purpose, really) and moved back into his penthouse at the top.

Pepper had come back for a while, which had been fantastic of course. She was _ thrilling  _ and smart and she cared about Tony of course. But in the end, their old problems prevailed; Tony would always work himself to death and stretch himself thin, and Pepper would never be content to sit by and watch her love destroy himself. Their separation went from ‘ _ taking a break _ ’ to ‘ _ break up _ ’, because who were they kidding at this point. They both knew had been irreconcilable, no matter how much they loved each other. Didn’t make it hurt less though. They kept up with each other, talked work or whatever Tony was building at the moment or other small things. But it wasn’t the same, and Tony wasn’t really  _ comfortable _ calling her in the middle of the night when he was feeling isolated and afraid. In the months since the Avengers fall out, Tony struggled to keep himself constantly busy and constantly moving to forget his own problems.

So it had been a quiet six months since Germany. A lonely six months. Tony wouldn’t say he was _ moping _ , but things weren’t exactly ideal at the moment. His nightmares and anxiety back in full swing, Tony had gone back to what he’d always done when things were too stressful; kept himself endlessly busy. He went abroad on trips almost every week, worked tirelessly in the lab. Sat through meeting after meeting. And kept tabs on his young superhero  _ protégé _ . Spent a lot of time doing that actually, if only for something to do. 

He already knew quite a bit about Peter Parker. He’d of course done his research before picking up the kid in the first place; knew what kind of student he was, about what family he had left. And that was before he even met the young hero. Tony made sure to keep up with Peter’s life after he’d brought the kid home. He really did listen to  _ every _ voicemail, and had actually come to enjoy them as part of his day to day routine. Thanks to the Baby Monitor, all of Peter’s daily patrols were always recorded. He’d watched through the highlights of quite a few of them actually. Initially it had been to look for improvements that could be made to the suit, new safety measures he ought to include, but Tony found that he also just really enjoyed watching the kid have fun and goof off as he patrolled. The way he’d drop from buildings and catch himself on a web was thrilling, the little chats he’d have with Queens locals was endearing. Tony couldn’t watch them very often, he was a busy billionaire genius after all, but on days when he was just working in the lab he’d have the suits AI just compile the latest highlights for him and enjoy them as he worked. 

It wasn’t the same as actually talking to people or anything, but it soothed the aching loneliness and boredom Tony had been feeling just a bit. It brightened his day. Though he wouldn’t admit it out loud, Tony knew he’d developed a real soft spot for the kid. Just hearing Peter’s voicemails made him feel just a little less disconnected. Tony felt like he knew him, and found he really did care about the kid. But listening to voicemails and watching him work couldn’t really compare to actually talking to Peter. 

Peter Parker was _ incredibly _ bright, a prodigy that under different circumstances could give the Stark Industries’ researchers a run for their money. He was also pretty damn witty and funny, when he’d gotten over the little bit of hero-worship he had for Tony. Peter met the older man quip for quip, and took Tony’s often abrasive brand of sarcasm in stride, quickly coming to match him in fact. They talked about lots of things, from Peter’s school life to recent developments in robotics. Tony had come to genuinely look forward to texting the kid after school every day this week.

But in the back of his mind, Tony was very certain that Peter would need help to cope with what had occurred eventually. Whether the kid  _ genuinely _ hadn’t worried about it yet, or was possibly already freaking out and was just good at hiding it, Tony  _ severely _ doubted that Peter wouldn’t face some pretty heavy emotional consequences from what had happened. He was more than aware that it was a lot for a kid his age to handle. Tony promised himself that if Peter needed someone to talk to, he’d be there. Or at least, try to be. It wasn’t lost on Tony that he hadn’t been an ideal mentor so far, and he wouldn’t be too surprised if Peter didn’t consider him when it came to dealing with possible emotional distress. He wasn’t quite sure that a week of texting back and forth would be enough to convince Peter that Tony could be an emotionally available pillar of moral support. But he also didn’t want to just outright ask him about it, for the fear that he’d bring up something Peter wasn’t ready to address yet, or that the kid wouldn’t want to talk to him at all really. So when that late night phone call came in, while he was definitely worried, Tony was kind of glad Peter had been willing to reach out to him if he needed help.

He happens to be awake and down in the lab when Peter calls. Tony is  _ adamantly _ refusing to sleep himself and avoiding his own problems and building a tiny recon drone so that his hands have something to do.

“Boss, Incoming call from Mr. Parker.” FRIDAY’s smooth voice rings through the quiet. Tony sighs, and sets his tools down. He peaks at the clock on the wall; if Peter’s calling at this hour, its pretty easy to guess what he’d be calling for. Part of him had still hoped the kid would get out okay, but he supposes its at least good that Peter was willing to call him at all if he needed it. He’d also be lying if he said he wasn’t at least  _ slightly _ worried at being absolutely terrible at offering comfort.

He picks up, keeps his voice calm and grounded. No response but ragged breathing on the other end. Kids probably freaked out. He’s been worried about something like this, thinking of how he’d handle it, how to talk him through and let the young hero know he wasn’t alone. He hadn’t expected Peter to hang up so quickly.

“ _ Sorry, I, um. G-goodnight _ ” He hears, before the line goes dead immediately. Now he’s worried.

He pulls up the tracker on Peter’s phone, sure enough he’s home. Tony picks up his cell, ready to call right back, but thinks a moment and pauses. Maybe the kid needs a second? Would he feel threatened if Tony just called him right back? He decides to shoot him a text instead. The jumbled reply isn’t nearly enough to convince him the kid doesn’t need someone to talk to right now though.

’ _ imfine. Had nightmare.All good dont have to call _ ’ Yeah, no, Peter obviously needs some support right now. He calls the kid back right away, and tries to keep his cool through the initial lack of response. Peter’s still panicking, he’s always easy to read, even without him here in front of him. But that’s okay because they can get through this together. Tony can fix this dammit.

“Okay… Okay, good. Just, stay with me on the line alright? Don’t hang up yet. I’m here, you don’t have to talk if you can’t. Just… Breathe with me, okay? In and out” He says, keep steady, keep calm. He’s soothing Peter the way he recalls Harley doing for him once, the way Rhodey does every so often now. In and Out, breathing with Peter on the other line. Eventually the kid calms enough that he can actually talk again. Tony even manages to get a little chuckle out of him, which is quite a relief considering what he knows was probably some kind of panic attack.

Tony tries to get the kid talking now. He’s treading unknown territory, if he’s being honest. He can barely deal with his own mental health problems, and here he is trying to talk a teenager through theirs. But hey, he’s trying at least. He stops Peter when he starts to shut down, when calls this stupid, because its not stupid, never stupid to need help. He listens patiently as the kid tries again.

“…I was just scared, like  _ really _ scared, and I haven’t like, talked about this with anyone yet but I just realized that I could have, I don’t know, I don’t know what could have happened but it was horrible and I didn’t want to be alone and I thought…” Peter trails off abruptly, and when he doesn’t finish the thought Tony prods him to continue.

“Thought what, Peter?”

“Thought hearing you would help.” The confession is so earnest and startling, Tony can feel his heart skip a beat. He can feel his cheeks heat up, and when he asks if he really did help at all, he isn’t sure why he feels shy, and a little hopeful. Like a teenager. But now isn’t really the time to ponder on that, he’s still got Peter on the line, and the kid should probably talk about what happened. Tony tries to get him to explain, asks him if he wants to talk about what happened. He does his best not to be disappointed when he doesn’t.

Tony already knows what happened. The morning after the fight with Toomes, he went to the building where the fight had started, just to personally make sure that not one piece of alien tech got left behind this time. When he looked around and saw how utterly destroyed the place was, as if it had been cut down from the inside, well he got curious. It didn’t take much effort to dig up the security footage; Toomes apparently had a top notch surveillance system, audio and video, wired throughout his whole warehouse, and while it had been heavily encrypted in his files, no computer was a match for Tony Stark. Sitting at his desk in the lab with a holographic screen in front of him, Tony had access to the recordings from that night in less than an hour. But the footage that he’d seen… well, it had been  _ hard _ to watch. 

He’d felt extraordinarily proud of the kid for standing his ground when talking to the intimidating man, but then the building dropped in around him and Tony’s heart had all but stopped. The video cut out at that, the cameras probably destroyed, but the audio system had kept recording and Tony felt like he was  _ dying _ just listening to Peter’s broken cry for help. He cut it off at that point, shaking hand clutched to his chest, and struggled to breath through an oncoming anxiety attack. Oh god, he’d almost died. Peter had almost died, and it would have been all his fault for taking the suit. He’d taken something that could have helped Peter, protected him in that situation. He would have died because there was no way to call for help. In Tony’s eyes, there was no way this wasn’t 100% on him; the kid had tried to tell him, had tried to ask for help. Knowing how stubborn Peter was, Tony should have expected that he wouldn’t just quite being Spiderman without the suit. He almost let Peter die. It was in that moment that Tony resolved that no matter what else happened, he’d be there for Peter. The kid would never be alone again, never call for help and find that no one would answer. 

Tony knew Peter needed to talk about it, about what had happened to him, but the kid wasn’t ready and he wasn’t going to push. He sighed, and assured Peter that if he wanted to talk about it later, Tony’d be willing to listen. He decided that at the very least he should stay on the line with Peter; they could just talk about something else.

And they did, talked about Tony’s drone project for what felt like ages. Tony continued to be surprised about how knowledgeable Peter was in robotics, and at how useful his suggestions really were. The kid could probably get into MIT easily, without needing Tony’s pull there at all. He knew Peter was smart, sure, but text messages couldn’t quite capture the energy he had when firing off new ideas, the speed with which his mind worked. It was the most stimulating conversation Tony’d had in months. He occasionally had to pause to explain something that the kid didn’t already know, but it was clear that Peter was a fast learner, and had in fact done plenty of his own research on tons of Tony’s earlier work.

“Oh! You could probably save yourself some time on software design if you just clean up and revamp your work from those unmanned jets you made like, ages ago. I know, I know, it’s probably dated as hell, but things like the human facial recognition system could be good for spotting people in rubble or something. It could probably be upgraded? Instead of working it up from scratch at least.” Peter suggested, after Tony had explained some of the features he wanted to include in these drones.

“Wait, you mean from like, back when I still made weapons and crap? That’s from like a decade ago, how do you even know about what tech those things were using?” Tony asks, genuinely curious, and a little impressed if Peter had gotten that info the way he suspected he had. Tony was aware that most of the old Stark Industries patents had be declassified at some point in the last couple years, and while of course the ‘how’ of manufacturing these things was still under wraps, the features and specs of lots of his early work was available to the public now. But that didn’t mean anyone read those reports. Tony’d written more than half the descriptions himself and they were probably damn near impossible to follow. Not exactly light-reading for your average teen.

“Er- well, they have a bunch of papers about your old projects at the library. I’ve, uh, read. A few. I guess you could say I’m a fan of your work? Or at least, really interested. Being a ‘fan’ of weapons of mass destruction sounds bad actually-” Peter rambles on a bit.

He honestly felt a bit flattered at that, knowing Peter had always been truly interested in him beyond just his role as Ironman. It wasn’t very often these days that people bothered to remember that he was still a Genius Engineer out of the suit, and the small ego boost was certainly welcome tonight. But beyond that, just listening to the Peter’s infectious excitement and brilliant (if  _ unconventional _ ) ideas lifted Tony’s spirits and put a genuine smile on his face. Tony felt like he could stay up talking with him forever, but a tired yawn on the other end of the line sharply reminded the older man that Peter was too young to be pulling all-nighters like this, and probably needed a rest.

Peter thanked him before hanging up, and again Tony could feel his heart squeezing, his cheeks heating up with the warmth curling in him. He sent the kid off to bed, but let him hang up first. He tried to convince himself that it was entirely because he wanted to give Peter the chance to say anything else if he needed to, and not at all because he really really did just want to talk to him forever. Tony held his head in his hands as he leaned forward against his work table.

Shit.

Its just affection. Like, FATHERLY affection. Because at _ 39-Soon-To-Be-40 _ , he’s old enough to be Peter’s father, honestly. He just feels ODD because he hasn’t had anybody to really talk to in a while, and frankly, Peter is just so incredibly smart. And interesting. And pretty funny too actually. And Tony’s lonely. Yeah, that’s all.

He convinces himself he just needs to get out more, and Tony pushes all of that to the back of his mind. It really _really_ isn’t a problem. Tony is just Peter’s moral support; _absolutely_ _nothing more_.

He gets up from his desk to stretch his legs, and finds himself wandering toward the windows. Through floor-to-ceiling glass, Tony can see color just beginning to peak over the buildings. Maybe Peter is off in Queens, watching the sun start to rise. Hopefully he’s sleeping again, more peacefully this time. 

Tony sighs, and supposes he should at least try to get an hour or so of probably-unrestful sleep at least. Not feeling inclined to make his way up to his suite, he plops down onto the couch in the lab and closes his eyes. Surprisingly, he’s out very quickly, and while he’s still the same anxious twitchy sleeper he’s been for a while now, his dreams are warmed by what feels like an energetic ball of light. Tony manages 4 whole hours of only moderate jitters, and its the most peaceful sleep he’s had in years.

—

Tony checks in with Peter the next morning, after breakfast while he’s getting ready for the day. The kid got a few hours of sleep as well, which is good. Tony fumbles the buttons of his dress shirt for a while as he struggles to text with one hand before remembering that he can just use text-to-speech, and he’s so glad no one is around to comment on the fact that he’s an actual genius. 

Tony’s got meetings all day, busy and _ boring _ , but does his best to text Peter whenever he’s got a minute. They don’t talk about anything too important, they certainly don’t talk about the nightmare. Peter apparently hangs out with Ned that morning, his 'guy in the chair’, and then goes on patrol. Tony spends a majority of one of his afternoon meetings watching the live-feed from Peter’s mask on his phone. Ned is apparently a pretty decent guy in the chair, and most definitely the one who hacked the damn suit. Tony makes a note of that to keep him in mind for potential new hires to the programming department of SI. Spiderman’s adventures in Queens that day are the usual kind of uneventful. The young hero gives directions to a few tourists, stops a bike-thief, and honest to god helps a little old lady cross the street, which Tony finds _ hilariously _ endearing. He doesn’t get to watch the end of the patrol, because he has actual boring grown up shit to do, unfortunately. Tony doesn’t hear from Peter again till after dinner time, when he gets a 'report’ of his patrol for the day. He doesn’t bother mentioning that he actually watched most of it. They text back and forth a while before the kid heads to bed. 

Peter’s nightmares don’t just stop, of course, because its never ever that easy really. Tony gets another call that night, while he’s up writing line after line of boring code for those drones. He talks Peter down, and then they debate about which Star Trek generation is objectively the best. Tony loses the argument, by virtue of being unable to deny that Captain Picard was  _ super-hot-in-an-old-guy-way _ (and he doesn’t blush at that at all). They stay up till 4am, partly because it took a while for Peter to feel tired again after such a rush of adrenaline, and partly because Tony wanted to keep hearing his voice. When he finally sends the kid to bed and Peter hangs up, Tony buries down that growing warmth again and catches a few hours of sleep himself. Peter sporadically texts him TNG memes all through out the next day and its a nice distraction.

When Peter calls Sunday night, 12:56am, the poor kid had barely gotten an hour of sleep and finally,  _ finally _ wants to talk about it.

“Mr. Stark I think I almost died a couple times and I’m  _ not sure _ I’m okay anymore” Peter says, all in a rush like admitting it hurts him. It hurts Tony, that’s for sure. Because he knows he’s responsible. Because he knows he should have been there. Because he heard the way Peter cried for help and knows he can’t take any of it back.

“It’s okay if you’re not okay, kid.” Tony tells him, and hopes it helps at all. “I can relate. Wanna tell me about it?”

Its quiet on the line for a while before he says anything, so Tony waits nervously, leg bouncing under his desk, until the kid finally speaks. 

Peter tells him, in broken sentences, having to stop often to remember to breathe or choking back a sob. He tells him  _ everything _ , and even though Tony saw and heard it all already, it hurts very much to hear it from the young,  _ so so young _ hero himself. But he needs to hear it, because Peter needs to say it and Tony owes it too him. The way the kid talks about it, the dark and the damp, the heavy press of tons and tons of concrete on his back. Knowing that no one would come to save him. Tony can feel a few tears rolling down his cheeks, but absolutely refuses to make a sound. Peter needs this. When the kid finally finishes, Tony can hear weak, quiet sniffles on the other end of the line. He schools himself, tries not to let his voice break when he speaks. 

“Peter… Thank you. For telling me. I know, ah. I know that must have been hard to say, it was a lot. To go through alone. It would be a lot for anyone.” He says, trying to keep calm, holding it together. “And I’m sorry Peter. I’m so sorry. This… You shouldn’t have had to go through this, I should have-”

“No Mr. Stark! Don’t be sorry its not your fault, I’m sorry I wasn’t blaming you, I was stupid _ I did this _ I-” Peter tries to cut him off, frantic in his attempt to take responsibility. _ Uh-uh _ , Tony can’t have that.

“Nope,  _ not how it works _ kid. I’m the adult here, I _ fucked up _ okay?” He knows it sounds harsh, but he’s on a roll of self-loathing right now. How could he do this? How could he have put Peter in that kind of danger? “I should have had your back, I should have watched out for you, that’s my  _ JOB _ . I should have communicated, I should have listened. I… I should have done a lot of things Peter. This should have never happened to you. I’m sorry”

Peter stays quiet on the other line, so Tony takes it as a chance to continue with all the things he’s left unsaid. 

“You’re a good kid, Peter. A good kid, a good hero. But you’re _ just  _ a kid. You needed me to be there. I dragged you off to fucking Europe and you _ got hurt _ and I didn’t need you getting hurt  _ again _ and for some stupid reason, I thought if I just stayed away I could avoid putting you in danger. But I should have known better than that. I remember that day we talked in your room kid, what you said about  _ needing _ to help. I should have known you wouldn’t quit just cause I said no. You’re so  _ stubborn _ , kid. You’re so brave and so determined and I love-” Tony has to stop himself from just saying 'you’ here. “And I love that about you kid. _ Love _ the enthusiasm. So I’d hate it if something happened to you, and then I went and let all that happen to you. So. Yeah.  _ My bad _ . Sorry.” Tony finishes lamely. Well this is going swimmingly. So much for being a pillar of emotional support. It’s quiet for a moment on the other end, and Tony’s pretty sure he’s doing this wrong.

“You… you really think I’m brave?” Peter asks shyly over the line, and if that’s the part he wants to focus on then Tony will definitely take it.

“ _ Absolutely. _ ” He says, and he really, really means that. Peter is quiet for a beat after that, and for a second Tony isn’t sure if he needs to say more, but thankfully the kid speaks up again.

“I, um. Thank you. For listening, and for letting me keep you up all night again. And just letting me talk. I don’t have anyone else I can talk to about this, and I just. You’re really good at this. And it helps. I know… I  _ know _ you blame yourself for. everything. All that… stuff, that happened. And for the not-sleeping thing. But I want you to know that I don’t blame you, I’m not mad at you for it. You… You’ve always been my hero, Mr.Stark. And just being able to talk to you, about whatever I’m going through. I… It means a lot. It means a lot to know you’re there. I always thought you were really brave too.” Peter says, and its  _ so so _ honest. Tony finds himself in one of those rare moments where he’s stunned silent. Peter sounds calmer now, not the panicked mess he was minutes ago, and that same warmth Tony always gets when they talk unfurls in him again. Peter thinks he’s brave, and that feels nice.

“Can I pick you up from school tomorrow?” He blurts out, without even thinking about it, without putting together a reason why. Shit.

“I- um. what?” The kid stutters out. Shit, shit, backtrack Stark,  _ BACK OUT NOW _ .

“ _ I mean _ -” He starts, rushed, but Peter cuts him off. 

“Yes!  _ I mean _ , yeah, sure, that would be  _ um _ . That’d be cool. If you want.” Peter says nervously. Great, now Tony feels nervous too. What the hell was he doing?

“Yeah, I just uh. Thought seeing the lab might. Cheer you up. Or something. Right? Do you want to come see the lab tomorrow?” He asks, and he doesn’t really know why he asked. Of course Peter wants to see the lab. 

“Of course I want to see the lab!” Peter says, all excitement and enthusiasm, panic attacks and nightmares long forgotten. The joy in his voice is honestly a little infectious, and Tony supposes this is why he offered. Something exciting and new that only he could give Peter. Some small thing to make up for what had happened.

“Great. You get out at like, 2:45 right? I’ll be there.” He says, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a little giddy. Tony’s got a genuine smile on his face that he can’t even try to hide. He probably looks like some teenage girl talking to her high school crush on the phone. Wait, no, bad mental image.

Tony takes a glance over at the clock. Its already 2am,  _ kind of _ late for a teen to be awake.

“Not that I don’t love our conversations, but if you want to make it through school tomorrow, you should probably get some sleep.” Tony says, trying to be the responsible adult. Peter whines plaintively into the receiver.

“But now I’m to  _ excited _ to sleep!!” He complains, and for all it is  _ incredibly  _ childish its also very cute and  _ very _ charming for Tony. He’s tempted to indulge the kid, unfortunately.

“I’ll give you 10 minutes kid. Tell me more about your patrol. Helping old ladies cross the street? sounds fascinating.” Tony says, conceding after a moment. He ends up giving him 12 minutes, as Peter regales him with a story about how he once found someones lost dog, and spent like, 2 hours tracking down the owner. He was rewarded by way of a whole bag of donuts, because apparently the owners ran a local bakery. Tony had actually heard about that one in a voicemail once, and made a mental note to look up that footage later because it sounded hysterical. By the time Peter says goodnight and hangs up, Tony’s ribs are starting to hurt from laughing.

He catches his breath and sets his phone down, wraps his arms around himself and leans back in his chair. Peter talked about what happened; thats good, thats progress, thats healing. Tony was there for him, like he’d promised he would be. They were getting along even better than Tony’d thought they would. And they were going to hang out tomorrow; thats good too. Definitely good. Yeah. Tony gets up from his desk and his paper work and idly makes his way to the elevator. FRIDAY opens it for him and starts he accent to his floor without being asked. Tony tells himself that ’ _ it’ll be great _ ’ and ’ _ it’s not weird to casually hang out with your teenage protege _ ’ and ’ _ this is not a bad idea _ ’, as he makes his way up to the top floor suite to get ready for bed.

Tony felt an odd combination of excited and nervous, and decided not to ponder on why. He doesn’t get much sleep that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woo, and were done with all that. Oh Mr. Stark, perhaps consider seeing a therapist instead of... well, whatever this is. Next we get to see their not-date at the lab, so that'll be fun (or will it QwQ)
> 
> if u liked this, or hated this, or are deeply confused but slightly intrigued by this, i'd love to hear about it in the comments!!! thanks for readin, mate <3


	3. I Really Like You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter becomes the center of attention (unintentionally), discovers his own feelings (unfortunately), and ponders the possibilities (or lack-there-of).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and here we are in chapter 3 of a story aint nobody ask for. Lets get back to what Peter is thinking, shall we?

The clock on the wall reads 2:36pm. It has been 2:36pm the last 3 times Peter has checked. He checks again anyway, and wills time to move  _ FASTER _ . It’s 2:37pm now, and Peter is pretty sure he’s gonna lose it.

 

Since Mr. Stark had invited Peter to the lab last night, it was all he could think about. After they hung up, Peter found it nearly impossible to sleep for quite a while, excited and nervous and giddy all at once. He’d tossed and turned for nearly 2 hours before exhaustion won out. And when he’d woken up, it was still the first thing on his mind that morning. At breakfast with May he couldn’t stop himself from babbling about how  _ cool _ it was. She still wasn’t a fan of Mr. Stark, but it had been hard for her not to share his overwhelming excitement, just a bit. He changed outfits three times before school, almost making himself late. He hadn’t been sure if he should dress a little more formal, or if that would be weird, or if dressing too casual would be considered rude. For a moment he’d considered texting Mr. Stark and asking the man what he wanted him to wear, had even gotten so far as typing up the message in fact, but very quickly realized how profoundly  _ embarrassing _ that would have been. He just wanted to look nice for this. He’d eventually settled on his favorite blue sweater and a collared shirt underneath; just semi-casual enough. 

 

Focusing in school once he’d gotten there had essentially been an impossible task. Peter had spent all of today practically  _ vibrating _ with the anticipation of hanging out with Mr. Stark. Here he is, finally in last period, and it feels like it’ll never end. It’s verging on torture at this point.

“Dude, you good?” Ned leans over to ask, hushed and quiet because they’re in history class, why are they in history class, why are they STILL in  _ god damn history class _ ? The teacher drones on and on about some Civil War or something else that he can’t focus on. Peter lets out a rush of air and tries to will his leg to stop bouncing impatiently.

“ _ M'good _ ” he mutters back, keeping his eyes on the clock. He’s not even pretending to pay attention at this point. Ned rolls his eyes and Peter definitely doesn’t notice.

He hadn’t mentioned to Ned that he’d be hanging out with Mr. Stark today. Partly because well, as much as Peter loves his friend, Ned gets  _ a little _ too excited sometimes. His enthusiasm over every really cool thing that happens to Peter is definitely understandable; the problem was more that lots and lots of really cool things had happened to Peter lately. Ned was still reeling over how Peter turned down being an Avenger last week, but he figures with time, his friend will become a little more acclimated to the superhero stuff. 

Peter may also be keeping this one small thing to himself because of the strange butterflies in his gut, to be perfectly honest. Just thinking about the fact that he would be spending his whole afternoon with the older man left him nervous and thrilled all at once, and he can’t really explain why. His feelings about Mr. Stark have become more than a little confusing in the last few days. Somewhere in the realm of admiration for his role model and appreciation for all the comfort the man has given him. 

He’d originally written this off as the  _ sheer overwhelming coolness _ of getting to hang out with a hero, but Peter’s already seen plenty of Iron Man, and he knows it isn’t just hero-worship at this point. Yes, Mr. Stark is still his idol, still a celebrity and a genius and a lot of other things. But he’s also the guy who would text Peter bad puns about physics occasionally. The person who has more than once stayed on the phone with him when the world was crashing down on the teen. The shock and awe of talking to his hero everyday has simmered to background noise somewhere in his head; not completely gone (never gone because this was still cool, so, so cool), but Peter certainly feels much less intimidated by the concept. Hero feels like an abstract concept or far away dream, but Mr. Stark has become a solid fixture in his life at this point. A solid fixture that he gets to hang out with in person today,  _ if this class would just end already _ .

He reflexively checks the clock again; 2:41pm. Peter is practically vibrating in his seat at this point.

The next four minutes are Literal Hell for him. When the bell finally rings Peter all but runs out of the class, the teacher still saying something or the other about the homework assignment as he goes. He makes a beeline for his locker, putting his books away and snatching up his backpack. Ned finally catches up to him as he’s fumbling to close his bag, homework hastily stuffed in and catching on the zipper.

“Dude! Seriously,  _ what _ is going on with you today?” Ned says, just a bit winded. He probably had to jog to catch up with Peter, considering how fast he’d booked it to his locker. 

“Sorry, sorry, I’m just in kind of a rush today.” Peter says, finally getting his bag to close and tossing it over his shoulder.

“Pumped for patrol? I get it man, I’m psyched too.” his friend says, lightly punching him on the shoulder. Oh. Shit.

He’d completely forgotten to tell Ned they aren’t going to be able to do the spider-thing today. Since he started patrolling again over the weekend, Peter had asked Ned to be his Guy In The Chair permanently. Partly because Ned had been genuinely helpful in catching up to the Vulture that night, but also because being a superhero is the coolest thing to ever happen to Peter and his best friend deserves to take part in some of the fun of it at least. Plus, having Ned feed him info from police scanners and the internet has certainly made his crime-fighting more efficient these last couple patrols. Before, he had always just wandered around until he stumbled across someone that needed his help, but that meant he probably missed an awful lot. It’s nice to have some direction, and Ned is incredibly enthusiastic about being helpful. Which is why Peter feels pretty bad about letting him down today with so little warning.

“Er. No, actually. Sorry man, I should’ve told you earlier, I can’t patrol today,” He says, and Ned’s face falls immediately. Peter winces, and throws in quickly, “But tomorrow! I  _ promise _ , we can tomorrow.” His friend sighs, but nods, conceding.

“What, you’ve got plans today? or-” Ned’s eyes go wide suddenly and he gives a shifty look around. He leans in, a bit conspiratorial and half-whispers “Something going on? Like, a crime thing? a  _ Spider _ thing?? I can help!!” Peter decides he’d probably be better off just telling Ned where he’s headed today, he’ll think something’s up regardless.

“No no, it’s not. Ah. I’m just-” Peter starts, but he’s interrupted by someone to his side slamming his locker shut behind him. The sound makes him jump, on edge and high alert already, and Ned for a moment looks like a deer in headlights.

“Alright, what are you dorks up to, whisperin’ like you got  _ secrets _ or something.” Michelle asks, leaning against the lockers next to them. When in the hell had she gotten there? The way she’s always able to sneak up on them so silently, Peter is starting to think she must have super powers too. Peter and Ned both start to stammer excuses but she just grins cheshire-like at that.

“Kidding. I don’t care. Parker, don’t forget about the club meeting tomorrow. Leeds, walk me home.” She says, before smoothly slinking off. Ned turns to Peter and shrugs. 

 

“Uh, text me, I guess. About,  _ whatever _ you’re doing today,” He says, giving Peter a fist-bump before rushing off to keep up with MJ.

Over the past week, Michelle has become a lot more of a friend to them both. It came up during lunch that both she and Ned lived very close to the school, and that their homes are in fact only 2 blocks apart. Since then, they’ve started walking home together, and seem to be getting along great. Or, as great as anyone could get along with MJ. She is definitely their friend now, yes, but that doesn’t make her any less abrasive most of the time.

Peter watches them go, and then very suddenly remembers he had somewhere to be. He takes a glance at his phone to check the time and, shit, it’s already  _ 2:52  _ and he had wanted to get out of here quick so Mr. Stark wouldn’t have to wait. He pockets the phone again, and rushes through the crowd of wandering students towards the front entrance. 

Peter bursts through the doors, and out onto the front steps. He takes stock of the scene before him, and realizes all at once that Mr. Stark had neglected to clarify _ where _ he would actually meet him. He’d just stated that he’d ‘ _ be there _ ’ when classes ended, but Peter figured that meant somewhere in the general vicinity, and he could just call him when he got out. But, judging by the expensive-looking, cherry-red Ferrari parked in square in the middle of the pick-up zone, that is  _ apparently _ not the case.

People are pausing and heads are turning, of course, because the car stands out like a bright beacon in a parking lot full of modest sedans. Several kids and parents are scrambling to snap a picture as well, because there behind the wheel is  _ Tony Fucking Stark _ . He seems to be dressed fairly casual today, a t-shirt as opposed to the suits Peter usually sees him in, and of course, a pair of shades over his eyes. He has his seat leaned back a bit and appears to be  _ very  _ engrossed with something on his phone, not even remotely interested in the nosy teens milling about. All eyes are focused on the car there in the middle of the lot, and hushed whispers can be heard throughout. It is in this moment Peter comes to the conclusion that discretion probably isn’t something Mr. Stark tries to employ very often. 

Peter spots his friends standing far off to the side, apparently they hadn’t made it very far at all in their walk home yet. Ned looks, well, understandably aghast at who is parked in front of their school this afternoon. Michelle even looks a bit surprised, and she’s already whipping out her sketchbook, but she’s more likely interested in drawing the many comically shocked faces around her than Mr. Stark himself.

Peter looks around and takes stock of the situation for a second. Well, there is absolutely _ no way _ he’ll be able to get in that car without absolutely everyone seeing him. His spider powers made him sneaky, not invisible. But he decides it’s not the worst thing that could happen to his reputation; hell, maybe Flash will finally stop teasing him about knowing Tony Stark, with definitive proof parked there for everyone to see. He takes one last look at all the people standing around gawking, eyes that he knows will be on him in a moment. Peter swallows his apprehension, and makes his way down the steps. He does his best to look confident and determined as he strides toward the car, but inside he’s beginning to freak out a bit. Everyone milling about is keeping a sort of safe distance from the vehicle, so as he gets closer and it becomes clear where he’s headed, all eyes turn to him. He glances over at his friends, Ned looking like he’s about to  _ explode _ . MJ just quirks an eyebrow at him, pausing in her sketches. Peter turns his gaze forward and tries to keep his focus on the car and Mr. Stark, too uncomfortable to meet anyone’s eyes. The 30ft or so of parking lot he has to walk through seems to stretch on for miles with everyone’s attention on him like this. He finally makes it to the passenger-side door and gives a little tap on the window, which seems to startle Mr. Stark for a moment. The man nearly drops his phone as he turns his head towards the disturbance. Peter smiles sheepishly and gives a small wave; he remembers then that he is also profoundly nervous about spending time with his mentor. Mr. Stark is wearing shades, so he can’t see his eyes, but the grin on his face says he’s happy to see Peter as he winds down the window.

“Hey kid, come here often? Just kidding, you’re here pretty much always because you’re a teenager and  _ all _ you guys do is go to school all day.” Mr. Stark rambles pleasantly. Peter lets out a chuckle and can feel his cheeks warm up, his nerves easing up a bit. Just hearing Mr. Stark’s voice makes him feel a little more comfortable, the instantaneous calming effect the older man has on him is bordering on Pavlovian at this point.

“I mean, I feel like that’s not a bad thing. Could be out doing drugs or something, ya’ know?” Peter says and leans in against the door, onlookers nearly forgotten already.

“Well, you could always just follow my lead and graduate already. I could use another intern, you know.” Mr. Stark says, and Peter rolls his eyes at that but can’t keep the happy grin off his face. Mr. Stark clears his throat.

“So are you just gonna stand there and look pretty, or do you plan on getting in the car at any point? Doors open by the by.” Mr. Stark says, gesturing to the passenger seat and pointedly picking his phone back up. Peter can feel himself flush a bit at ‘pretty’ but opens the door and slides into the seat without comment. He makes a concentrated effort to not think about the various gasps and whispers his advanced hearing picked up as he got in, and  _ adamantly refuses _ to acknowledge the scattered onlookers. He tosses his backpack down by his feet and moves to buckle his seat-belt, just as Mr. Stark leans in to show him his phone.

“Look, I beat my high score. Top that, junior.” He says, letting Peter take the device from his hand. The kid can’t stop himself from letting out a laugh at what he sees.

“Seriously?” He asks between giggles. Mr. Stark looks only slightly affronted, so that’s good.

“And what, may I ask, is so funny, Mr. Parker?” He asks, hand to his chest in dramatic mock offense. Peter quirks an incredulous eyebrow at him, but can’t keep the smile off his face.

“It’s 2018 and you’re really still playing Flappy Bird? AND your high score is only 26? I’m appalled.” He says, starting the game up.

 

“Oh yeah? And what’s your high score, kid?” Mr. Stark says, now looking just a tad bit competitive.

“179.”

“Bullshit.” Mr. Stark says, not missing a beat. Peter keeps his focus on the phone as he taps, but can’t help but grin.

“Screen-shotted it. I can text you the proof later, if you want.” He says without looking up.

“Dammit.” Mr. Stark says, turning back towards the steering wheel and starting the car. Peter doesn’t look up from the phone as they pull out of the parking lot, all his attention locked on the game. He passes Mr. Stark’s score as they’re pulling out onto the street.

“How did you even  _ get _ this game? It’s not in the app store anymore.” He asks after a few minutes, because he feels like he should be talking to the man instead of playing on his expensive phone, and because he’s already completely  _ demolished _ Tony’s score at 68 points. He lets the bird fall and sets the phone down. Mr. Stark glances at the score and his mouth turns to a confused frown.

“Oh come on, I’m a literal genius, you think I can’t figure out an app game? Don’t tell the feds, but I just recreated the app for my phone.  _ Minus ads, _ of course.  _ How _ did you do that??”

Peter shrugs, looking just a bit smug. “Reflexes,” He answers simply. Now that they’re away from the school and all the curious onlookers, Peter feels a little calmer. He looks around the vehicle they’re sitting in, all smooth leather seats and that new-car smell, and it’s not lost on Peter that this is hands-down the most expensive car he’s ever been in. There is no way everyone in school isn’t going to be talking about who picked him up today.

”Ya know, I had kind of been expecting to meet you somewhere near by or whatever. Or even that Happy would pick me up again maybe. The, uh, sports car parked in front of my school was like, a little unexpected? Not that I don’t appreciate being picked up in probably the coolest car ever but like, you realize everyone saw us, right?” Peter mentions, fidgeting in his seat. He’s not sure if this is something rude to bring up, but he’s 15 for Christ’s sake. He can’t help it if he worries about what his classmates think.

”What, worried about your reputation, kid?” Mr. Stark jokes lightly, but peeks over at Peter to his side. He must look as anxious as he feels, because Mr. Stark’s expression softens then. He speaks again, a bit more gently and sincere. “Sorry, you’re right. I guess I’m a little to used to being in the spotlight. I keep forgetting you’re just a teenager, that was probably weird for you. We can figure out how to do this better next time, if you want?”

”Um, yeah sure. It’s okay, really. It shouldn’t even be a big deal, who cares if people talk, right? Thank you, for picking me up.” Peter says hurriedly, feeling silly that he’d felt like he should complain. Mr. Stark ‘hmm’s politely, and goes back focusing his attention on the road. Peter focuses his attention on Mr. Stark.

Here he is, in a fancy sports car with his childhood hero, on the way to what is probably the coolest science lab in the country, and they’re just casually chatting about app games and Peter is worried about what his class mates have to say? That should be like, the furthest thing from his mind right now. He’s hanging out with Tony Stark, high school isn’t even an issue at this point. Peter recalls that he’s been excited and nervous for this since Mr. Stark invited him. Last night he’d been too restlessly thrilled to sleep for hours, and he’d spent all day practically buzzing, waiting for school to let out. And now here he was with the man, in person and real.

Even though he’s been speaking to Mr. Stark a lot more lately, it’s not lost on Peter that texts and calls are _ not  _ the same as actually spending time with the man who he’s become so very close too in just this past week. A man who is also an actual hero, a super hero like in comic books and movies. The butterflies in his stomach resume their fluttering, and Peter has to consciously remind himself that he’s _ not just _ Iron Man, but also  _ Mr. Stark _ , the man who lets him send Star Trek memes all day and stays on the phone with him at 1am when he can’t sleep. He’s  _ Tony _ , who cares about him, and talks him down from panic attacks and asks about school. Somehow, that just makes the flutters increase.

Peter lets his gaze travel over the man sitting next to him while his focus is on the road. The afternoon sun is shining on him through the windows, painting his features in warm light. Peter can spy the little flecks of grey hair starting at his temples, the little wrinkles at the corner of his eyes, the strong angle of his jaw. Peter doesn’t miss the bags under his eyes, but figures a man as busy as Mr. Stark probably never  _ really _ gets enough sleep. Even so, his eyes stay steady and sharp on the traffic around them, and the smile on his face is calm and easy. This is the most relaxed Peter’s ever seen him, and it’s a good look on the older man.

In the small space of the car, Peter suddenly becomes acutely aware of Mr. Stark’s presence. The warmth coming off of him at his side, the assured and steady way he moves the wheel as they make a turn. Most of all, his smell, like coffee and faintly of motor oil and something else Peter can’t quite place but is probably very expensive. His eyes are still locked to the older man’s profile when Mr. Stark shoots him a sidelong glance out the corner of his eye and smirks a bit. Peter realized he’s staring and can’t help but let out a small, embarrassed  squeak as he averts his eyes. What the hell is he doing? He’s gonna make a fool of himself in front of his  _ god-damn childhood hero _ the very first time they actually hang out. This is no time to be star-struck. Blessedly, Mr. Stark picks up conversation again, and kindly doesn’t mention that Peter was gawking.

“So, you excited to see the workshop? You ever been in a professional lab before? Probably not, right, you’re like, a kid, kids don’t really get to mess around in places like that too often I assume.” Mr. Stark asks, and Peter rolls his eyes at that.

“I’m 15,  _ not a kid _ , thank you very much. And yeah I have actually! Been to a lab, I mean. Just once though, school trip to OsCorp.” He elaborates, and ponders mentioning that he gained his powers by being bitten by one of the lab’s specimens on that trip. Peter’s pretty sure someone would get fired for that though, so he keeps it to himself.

“Oh, I get it, you got to see their _ fancy OsCorp lab _ and now I’m not so interesting huh? Way to make a guy feel special, Parker.” Mr. Stark laments dramatically, but Peter knows he’s teasing. Probably.

“Oh come on, I didn’t say that! Mr. Stark, you’re like, the  _ coolest  _ person on the planet. You’re a literal genius!  _ Of course _ I’m excited to see the lab, I was up super late just thinking about it, I’ve been looking forward to this all day, I can’t even believe you’re letting me do this, I can’t believe I’m hanging out with you, I’m going to Tony Stark’s lab, holy SHIT what is my life-” Peter starts slipping into a fanboy tirade that would make even Ned embarrassed, but thankfully Mr. Stark cuts him off before he can start _ waxing poetic _ about the man’s brilliant work in all sorts of scientific fields. He’s laughing now, but Peter can tell it’s not unkind. That doesn’t stop the blush that he knows has crept up on his face. Mr. Stark’s laugh is hearty and warm, Peter’s kind of thrilled to have caused it. He feels his butterflies again and squirms a bit restlessly in his seat.

“Okay, okay, I was kidding! But thanks for stroking my ego anyway, kid, it’s  _ always _ appreciated.” He says, a little breathless as his giggles subside. The car turns off the street neatly and heads into an underground parking garage. “We’re here.” He says, as they slide smoothly into an empty spot among all the other sports cars parked here. Peter unbuckles his seat belt and scoops up his backpack. They hop out of the car and make their way toward an elevator all the way at the end of the large space. The door opens as they near without any prompting, and as they step inside, Peter notes that there are no buttons, no interface. Before he can ask how it works however, Mr. Stark speaks.

“FRIDAY, to the lab.” He says, and the elevator begins it’s ascent. Peter quirks an eyebrow curiously.

“You named the elevator Friday?”

“Not just the elevator, kid. She’s hooked up to everything. Fri runs the place.  _ Ain’t that right, hunny? _ ” Mr. Stark clarifies, and a smooth, feminine voice answers from some unseen place.

“Of course, boss.” She says, and Peter jumps a bit because he hadn’t been expecting her. He instinctively looks around fast for the source of the sound, but very quickly realizes her voice must be coming from inlaid speakers or something.

“Woah! Hello! You have an AI for the _ whole building _ ? That’s so cool!! She runs everything? Like, _ everything _ everything?? She’s like Karen! Hey, Ms. Friday, do you know Karen? The lady in my suit?” Peter muses excitedly, and falls into a line of questioning for the program. Yes, She can communicate with Peter’s suit AI, yes, she manages almost everything here, yes, she can see him now, _ no _ , she does not watch people use the bathroom. By the time they make it up to the lab, just a few minutes really, Peter has already made good friends with the voice, apparently. He catches a look from Mr. Stark on their way out of the elevator that says the older man finds this incredibly amusing. Peter doesn’t even have it in him to be self conscious about his unrepentant enthusiasm, everything that’s happening right now is just too cool. He exits the elevator, following the man out and as he catches his first look around, Peter’s jaw nearly hits the floor.

To say Mr. Stark’s lab is impressive would be a  _ grave understatement _ .

Every corner of the room is packed with the coolest gadgets and tech Peter’s ever seen. Half-finished projects on work tables, blueprints displayed on holographic screens all over the place, a massive computer interface toward the back of the room, _ is that a hydraulic press in the corner _ ? It’s so, so much to take in right now, Peter’s brain threatens to explode as he tries to process everything he’s seeing.

“Welcome home, kid.”

Peter whips his head to the side and meets Mr. Stark’s eyes, his shades now removed and tucked away in his pocket. His eyes are warm, warm and deep brown like coffee. The look he’s giving Peter is so… well, he doesn’t have a word for it, but he  _ likes _ it.

But it’s over in a moment, as Mr. Stark averts his eyes and clears his throat. Peter gets the sense that he’d caught the man staring.

“Well, care for a grand tour, kid?” He says, clasping Peter gently on the shoulder. Peter can feel all the heat of the man’s palm, even through his shirt. Mr. Stark begins explaining the layout of the work-space. Peter lets himself be guided around work tables and machines that probably cost more than Aunt May’s rent. It takes concentrated effort to prevent himself from putting his hands on everything Mr. Stark shows him, so he does his very best to focus entirely on the man’s words instead. The lab is everything Peter had hoped it would be and more, of course. It’s got features and tools the he couldn’t even dream of.

About half-way through the tour, he’s introduced to Mr. Stark’s assistants, 3 robots that instantly capture Peter’s heart.

”This is U, Butterfingers, DUM-E. They’re… well, they’re here. They do their best.” Mr. Stark explains, patting Butterfingers’ arm strut affectionately. Peter enthusiastically offers a hand-shake to DUM-E, the biggest one, who takes his hand gently and just kind of…  _ holds it  _ for a bit, probably not really understanding what Peter wanted. Peter’s excitement isn’t dampened by that in the slightest.

”It’s nice to meet you guys! I’m Peter, I’m visiting today!!!” He introduces himself, completely thrilled to be talking to Mr. Stark’s robot friends. The bots seem happy to meet him as well, whirring and bobbing in a friendly way and U just happily zooms in circles around him. It’s oddly adorable, Peter can’t help but feel like he’s being greeted by a trio of excited toddlers. Mr. Stark seems genuinely happy about how they get along, smiling brightly.

”Alright you three, get back to work. Come on, kid, there’s plenty more to see.” He says, leading Peter away. He waves bye to the bots as they go back to… whatever it is they’re attempting to. DUM-E is just kind of knocking things over, Butterfingers has a hammer  _ for some reason _ , and U just appears to be watching it all play out; Peter supposes its not his business. He lets himself be lead around the rest of the lab, asking dozens of questions. Mr. Stark patiently answers every one, and it’s honestly more than Peter has ever learned in a science class.  Mr. Stark explains most works in progress they pass as well, and Peter is left aghast at some of the things his mentor has come up with. 

On a workbench towards the back of the lab, they happen upon an unfinished project that Peter thinks he can identify.

“Is this… is this the disaster drones we’ve been talking about?” He questions, running a hand gently over the bot’s smooth metal chassis. He hasn’t seen any of the blueprints for it yet, of course, but Mr. Stark had given him a  _ very _ detailed description of it. Seeing the thing he’d been helping design go from in his head to a physical, real project on the table before him is a little thrilling.

“Yeah, it is actually.” Mr. Stark answers cheerfully, sounding incredibly pleased with Peter, which makes him blush a bit. He swipes a small, thin screwdriver off the table. “I’d say this baby’s almost done by now, but would you be interested in giving me a hand finishing her up?” He offers the tool for Peter to take. Peter does so, very gently as if it were a precious and very expensive fabregé egg.

For a moment, Peter is too stunned to speak, just looking back and forth between the project on the table, the tool in his hand, and Mr. Stark. When he’d been invited to see the lab, he assumed it was  _ just _ that;  _ seeing _ the lab. Actually getting to work on something hadn’t even crossed his mind. Being asked to help Mr. Stark finish a project, one that he’d given ideas and suggestions for in fact, is enough to short-circuit poor Peter’s teenage brain.

Mr. Stark, blessedly, seems to notice the young man is a bit overwhelmed by it all. He slides out the rolling stool from under the work table, and gently sits Peter down. He puts his hand back on Peter’s shoulder and gives it a firm squeeze, and flashes him a brilliant smile.

“Don’t worry, I’ll walk you through it. This’ll be great, kid.” He says, in that steady, grounding tone that Peter has come to love. He feels his heart swell just a bit, and nods enthusiastically. This is going to be so much more than great.

They get to work, Mr. Stark with a holo-screen pulled up at Peter’s side, as he walks the kid through assembly and bug fixes. Peter follows the man’s instructions easily enough, asking questions as he goes. Whenever Peter does something well, the little bit of praise Mr. Stark gives leaves him buzzing. He supposes this must be what 'fatherly encouragement’ feels like, warm and exciting. At some point, Mr. Stark has pizza sent up for them, and it turns out they have the same favorite order, sausage and peppers. They eat, they work, the bot slowly comes together. It’s fun, as they quip back and forth the whole time, all laughs and smiles. They get to a point where Peter needs to screw in a very very small engine component, but that part of the diagram doesn’t really make sense to him.

“Huh… well I’ve got absolutely no idea what you’re talking about there.” He says, gesturing on the diagram. “Should that be part be locked in to the underside, like, to ground it, or am I just missing something?” Mr. Stark stares down the blueprints for a moment before letting out a soft 'hmmm’. 

“Maybe? Actually, lemme take a look at that’” The older man says, and suddenly moves in very close to Peter. His eyes are fixed on the motor in front of them, focused, with one hand turning it this way and that, but the other is planted firmly on Peter’s back as he leans over his shoulder to get a better look. Peter feels like he should be more tense about this, the man is entirely in his personal space and he’s never been a particularly touchy person, after all, even less so now with his extremely heightened senses. But, he finds that he _ likes  _ having Mr. Stark so close. He’s pressed against Peter’s back and side, and he can feel the warmth and sturdiness of him. Mr. Stark’s face is awfully close to Peter’s, he can feel his breath near his cheek and his stomach flip-flops. He turns his head toward the man, watches the sharp edge to his eyes as he ponders the designs, the focused crease of his brow. There’s that rich, musky smell again, dark and warm. Just like everything else about the man. Mr. Stark is… handsome. Very handsome. And so close. And Peter is…

Oh. Oh fuck.

He tenses up suddenly as a realization strikes him like lightning. He goes stiff and Mr. Stark startles as well, the hand quickly leaving his back as the man swiftly steps away. 

“Sorry, sorry. Rhodey always says I’m terrible about personal space.” He says, looking a bit sheepish and apologetic, scratching the back of his head nervously. “Anyway, I think you’re right. Screwing it to the reverse side will make it more stable. Uh, good catch, kid.”

 

Peter focuses his gaze back on the project, wills himself not to be weird or awkward or fidget on the spot.

“Hah, thanks. You should probably hire me for like, an actual internship one of these days.” He jokes, hoping his voice sounds steadier than he feels. Mr. Stark chuckles a bit.

“Call me when you’ve got less homework and crime fighting to do. Lord knows I could use someone competent around here, DUM-E is great but he’s no genius.” He says back good-naturedly. The tension dissipates a bit as they get back to work on the drone.

A few hours pass, the two chatting away again, but Mr. Stark stays firmly on his side of the workbench the whole time. Peter tries not to be disappointed at that. A couple hours pass, and they’re near complete with their bot. Just have to attach the outer casing, sturdy as all hell so the thing doesn’t get crushed by falling rocks, and install the software. But an alert from FRIDAY stops them in their tracks.

“Boss, you have an incoming call from May Parker.” The feminine voice echoes in the lab space. Peter glances quickly at the clock and winces. It’s just past 9, he should have been home about 2 hours ago. He turns to Mr. Stark to find the man looking just a wee bit nervous.

“I am so, so sorry I gave her your number, Mr. Stark. She threatened to ground me till I graduate and _ I don’t think she was bluffing _ .” He says apologetically. The older man waves it off dismissively.

“It’s fine, it’s fine. No worries. I’m supposed to be the responsible adult, after all.” He says, minimizing the holoscreen in front of him and picking up the call from his cellphone. Peter listens in to Mr. Stark’s end of the conversation, wondering what his Aunt is saying.

“Hello, Mrs. Parker, always good to hear from you.”

“That was definitely not sarcasm, sorry.”

“I am aware it is a school night, yes, we lost track of time. You have my sincerest apologies, really.”

“No, no this really is on me. I am sorry. Shoulda’ had him home hours ago, you’re exactly right.”

“Yes, of course. I’ll send him home right away. No, he’s right here, did you want to speak with him?” Mr. Stark says, turning to face Peter. “Sure, sure yes. Of course. You have a goodnight too, Mrs. Parker.”

He holds the phone out to Peter, which he takes gingerly. He puts it to his ear, already prepped to get chewed out.

“ _ Heyyyyy _ , Aunt May. Um. Sorry, we got kinda distracted?” He starts. She ’ _ hmm _ ’s in that way that says she’s really mad.

“You could have called, you know. I was up, I was  _ worried _ .” She says, more than a little frustrated, but Peter gets it. With everything that’s happened, he knows why she needs him to check in. He knows why she waits up when he’s out. He knows he makes her worry too much.

“I’m sorry. You’re right, I know you get nervous when I’m out so late. I should have let you know.” He says, feeling genuinely guilty. Mr. Stark stands off to the side, arms folded over his chest and shuffling about awkwardly. May sighs into the phone.

“Alright, alright. It’s okay. Just finish up and come home, okay? You’ve got school in the morning, kiddo.” She says, sounding a little bit soothed. Peter can’t help but smile. He assures her that he’ll be leaving right now, he’ll see her soon. They hang up cordially and he turns the phone back over to Mr. Stark.

“All good?” He asks, a little uncertain. Peter gives a small grin.

“Yeah, probably.” At that, Mr. Stark lets out a dramatic sigh of relief.

“Oh, thank Thor, I am not mentally prepared to get chewed out again so soon.” He says, chuckling. Peter laughs too, because here they are, two actual superheroes, terrified of the wrath of a small Sicilian woman from Queens.

“You’re not supposed to be scared of her! Dude, you’re Iron Man!” Peter says between giggles. Mr. Stark rolls his eyes. 

“In the suit, yeah. But I’m pretty sure she’d deck at the first opportunity, and I’m too pretty to get punched.” He jokes, but Peter blushes because yeah, Mr. Stark’s face is definitely more handsome un-punched. He buries that thought, and starts scooping up his things.

“Sure, whatever you say, Sir. Anyway, I kinda have to get home, punching is a definite possibility with Aunt May, so I probably can’t finish this with you.” Peter says, throwing the backpack over his shoulder. Mr. Stark nods.

“Fair enough. Mind if I have Happy drop you off? I’m gonna take care of this here-” He starts, gesturing toward the bot on the table. “… And I actually don’t want to risk seeing May in person, fun as that sounds.”

Peter has a hard time keeping the disappointment out of his voice, but manages okay. He just spent all day occupying the man’s time, it’s fine if Mr. Stark can’t drive him home. 

“Yeah, sure. No problem. I’ll text you?” He says. Mr. Stark nods, and starts leading him to the elevator.

“Absolutely, text me whenever, kid.” He says, putting his hand on Peter’s shoulder again, gently this time. “Always good to hear from you. We should do this again soon, yeah?” Peter smiles brightly at that. He’d do this every day if they could.

“Yes! Definitely! I would love to hang out again! I-” He starts, but feels a little shy all of a sudden. “I uh, I just wanna thank you. For inviting me over. And letting me help on the drone. And… well, everything else.”

He looks up and they lock eyes. Mr. Stark is giving him that strange look again. Its a look that seems falls somewhere between affection and longing, and Peter thinks he  _ maybe _ gets it now. His heart picks up, to fast, and Mr. Stark’s hand hasn’t left his shoulder. They’re staring each other down, and Peter thinks they must be on the precipice of something very unknown. But the moment ends fast, Mr. Stark breaks first and pulls his hand off Peter’s shoulder. It feels so cold there now.

“Don’t mention it, kid. I-” but the older man seems to stop himself. He pulls out his phone and focuses his gaze down to the screen. “I’ll have Happy meet you downstairs. You should get out of here before that aunt of yours actually kills me.” He says it with a smile on, but its not really as bright as he’d been smiling before. But Peter will take it for now, because yes, he really should get home.

He walks up to the elevator and like before, it opens without any prompt. He steps inside, but Mr. Stark calls out before he goes.

“Hey kid,” Peter turns, facing the man. He has a real smile on now, small and soft but real. “I had fun. really. So, thanks for that. Goodnight, Peter.”

Peter beams at him, can’t hold back the grin from his face. “Goodnight Mr. Stark!” He says, thrilled. The elevator doors slide shut.

But the lift doesn’t move. He waits about 30 seconds for it to descend, looking around at the shiny chrome and glass walls around him.

“Um, Ms. Friday, can you take me to the parking garage?” He tries, realizing she was probably waiting for him to tell her to go. He can hear a bark of laughter beyond the doors, probably Mr. Stark hearing him stuck there. God-dammit.

“Certainly, Mr. Parker.” She answers back, sounding just a bit amused, and the elevator finally begins its descent.

“You, uh, you can call me Peter, Ms. Friday.” He says, shuffling restlessly in the lift. He hadn’t realized how much he dislikes being in this metal box without Mr. Stark around. It feels too small in here, even though it’s actually quite large for an elevator.

“You’ve got it, Mr. Peter.” She says, and okay, he’s pretty sure he’s being teased by an AI right now, which is really cool, actually. It gets a chuckle out of him, because honestly, how fucking surreal is this? He momentarily forgets his discomfort, feeling like he can talk to FRIDAY instead. He recalls all the time he’s spent talking to Karen about all his teenage vigilante problems. He recalls asking her once about Liz.

“Hey, Friday?” He tries, Peter’s got a big question in mind. Something he’s pondering in light of his revelation a few hours ago, and because of the way Mr. Stark looked at him before he left.

“Yes, Peter?” She responds politely. He steels himself, because he’s gotta ask.

“Does… does Mr. Stark, um,  _ like _ me?” FRIDAY is quiet a moment, the small pause nerve-wracking for Peter. After a moment her voice fills the small space again.

“I’ve just asked Mr. Stark if he likes you, Peter. Would you like to hear his response?”

There’s a beat as Peter’s fragile teenage brain tries to process what the evil robot woman has said to him.

What.

The.

Fuck.

“WHY WOULD YOU ASK HIM?!” He all but shrieks, dropping his bag. Suddenly the room is way to small. Peter is reeling, he should have known better than to ask the man in question’s personal secretary AI. FRIDAY tries to apologize for the mistake, but he’s not even listening at this point. The small space of the elevator becomes far to restrictive. He’s in a small metal box, freaking the fuck out. He bends his head to his knees and tries to breathe because he cannot afford a panic attack in this elevator right now. Mr. Stark’s 'in and out’ mantra plays in Peter’s head, he breathes along with it, lets it pull him back from the edge. 

“Peter, do you need me to call for help?” FRIDAY asks, sounding concerned. He considers a moment having Mr. Stark here to soothe him, but the embarrassment of having to look the man in the eyes right now is not very appealing. Ugh, no.

 

“Ugh, no.” He says, trying to get his bearings. Okay. It’s fine. Mr. Stark is just going to think he’s  _ incredibly weird _ , but its fine. It’s totally fine, because Peter is pretty sure he was always kind of weird. This is fine. No turning back now, anyway. He  _ might as well _ get his damn answer.

 

“What did Mr. Stark say?” He asks, righting himself and trying to not sound angry with FRIDAY. She hadn’t done it to hurt him. Probably. Peter prepares himself for disappointment, because what the hell would Mr. Stark even say? He covers his eyes with his hand, as if that’ll make hearing this easier.

“Mr. Stark said 'Yes, of course’. Are you satisfied with that answer Peter?” 

Peter feels a bit frozen for a moment. 'Yes, of course’. A wave of cool relief washes over him at hearing that. Mr. Stark likes him. He likes him, and maybe doesn’t think he’s a weirdo. He knows it’s probably meant in a very friendly-platonic-mentor way, because Peter isn’t stupid, but it’s soothing to hear for the moment. He lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Mr. Stark likes him.

The elevator finally reaches the garage, and the doors open smoothly. He says goodbye to FRIDAY and steps out. Leaning against a town car a little ways down, Peter spies Happy, who looks vaguely disgruntled as usual.

“Hi Happy!” Peter says, excited to see him regardless. He may have a bit more bounce in his step then usual. Happy grunts, pointedly unenthusiastic.

“Hi kid.” The man says, already moving to open the door for him.

“Aw, come on, you’re not even a liiiittle glad to see me?” He tries, tossing his backpack in and sliding into the seat.

“You’re interrupting Dancing with the Stars  _ right now, as we speak _ .” Happy responds, closing the door as Peter buckles up. He shrugs, more to himself than anyone.

“That’s fair.”

Happy hops in and starts the car, and they make their merry way back to Queens. Peter makes attempts at conversation, which mostly fall flat until he brings up the baseball game he’d seen in the news that weekend. The Mets beat the Braves 11-0, and it turns out Happy is a huge Mets fan. He chatters on about how he’d won a huge bet on them, they’re gonna kill it at the next game as well. Peter isn’t a massive baseball fan or anything, but he knows enough to keep up. It’s nice to chat with the man, when he isn’t doing his best to be the grumpiest person on earth. He does his best to focus on the conversation, but he’d be lying if he said he doesn’t have other things on his mind. Thankfully, Happy doesn’t seem to notice, and before long they’re pulling up in front of his building. The man turns in his seat and gives Peter a friendly goodnight, as he slips out of the car.

The rest of the evening passes in a blur, Peter’s thoughts occupied by 100 other things. When he makes it upstairs, Aunt May hugs him, of course. She asks about his day, they chat a bit before he heads off to get ready for bed. Showered, teeth brushed, and in one of his comfortable old iron man pajamas, Peter finds himself completely exhausted as he lays in bed, and yet still entirely unable to sleep.

He feels  _ restless _ , the bunk above his bed making him feel far too cramped tonight. The blankets too stuffy, the room’s too cold, the streets too noisy, and he cant stop thinking about Mr. Stark’s hand firmly pressed against the small of his back. The way the man’s face brightens when Peter makes him laugh, really laugh. The look in his eyes, that said so much but not enough, not enough at all. He can’t stop thinking about those dark brown eyes, staring into him.

Peter  _ likes _ Mr. Stark. Not in a mentor way, not in a hero-worship way, not even in a fatherly way, which would have been kind of odd but understandable. No, he likes the man, in a needy and tragically hopeful sort of way. In a more than a crush, verging on love sort of way. In an ‘ _ I’d run off to Germany to fight Captain America for you _ ’ kind of way, and it occurs to Peter that he’s probably felt this way from the moment that Mr. Stark sat in his room and asked him why he had to be a hero. He remembers that moment, he felt like he’d sounded so childish, so naive. But Mr. Stark just looked like he got it, like he  _ understood perfectly _ the undying need to help. His heart squeezes just thinking about how Mr. Stark must have seen  _ something _ in him that day, something he wasn’t sure he could even see in himself. This… _ this is so much more _ than how he’d felt about Liz or anyone else before. And it completely _ sucks _ . He growls in frustration and tries to bury his face in his pillow, as if he can smother the awful wanting he feels. His treacherous brain just replays that look Mr. Stark had given him today, the image of his warm brown eyes conjured with a terrible clarity. He can feel himself flush under the imagined gaze.

Realizing that asphyxiation isn’t going to dull his feelings at all, Peter rolls over to grab his phone; might as well focus on something else if he isn’t going to sleep. The screen lights up, and shows that he’s missed quite a number of messages. Peter winces, remembering that he had forgotten to check his phone the entire time he’d been with Mr. Stark. Whoops. 

A few texts are from May, questioning about when he’ll be coming home. Those are to be expected, but he still feels a little bad.

He’s got one message from MJ, which succinctly states ’ _ Bruh, what the fuck _ ’. Understandable, too the point. He figures she won’t mind if he just explains himself in person, tomorrow.

He’s got 12 separate messages from Ned, completely excited, all caps, and a few asking if Tony Stark is taking him out of the country again, if Peter is okay or in any danger. He responds to those, even though at 12:36 pm on a school night, Ned is probably already asleep.

’ _ Sorry dude, was gonna tell u but we got interrupted. No need to worry, not hero business or anything. believe it or not we were just hanging out _ ’ He writes, hoping it sounds more casual than he actually feels about today. Peter supposes he’ll deal with Ned’s inevitable interrogation tomorrow at school, which is fine by him.

The last unchecked message is from Mr. Stark. Peter’s eyes go wide, because there is no way the man isn’t wondering about why Peter asked FRIDAY if he likes him. He opens the text, his stomach turns nervously.

’ _ Drones all done, first test went well. Thanks for the help, kid. You did good today, I mean that. Goodnight Peter _ ’

Peter feels his chest squeeze, re-reads the text over and over. He did good. Mr. Stark said he did good. Peter can’t help but roll in bed with glee at that, it feels so nice, this little bit of praise from Mr. Stark. His mind wanders, he pictures what it would be like for Mr. Stark to say it, how it would sound coming from him, maybe accompanied by gently tousling Peter’s hair or a firm squeeze on his shoulder. Maybe that warm smile, and that look that makes Peter’s stomach flutter. His heart speeds up and he can feel himself blush all the way down his chest. Peter is more than a little embarrassed at what the thought of that does for him. He pushes it to the back of his mind, and responds to the text.

’ _ Glad I could help! Goodnight Mr. Stark _ ’ He types, trying to keep it simple. A small part of him is a little disappointed Mr. Stark doesn’t want to talk about the question, but Peter supposes that would probably be really, really awkward for both of them. Besides, what could the man even say? The feeling obviously couldn’t be reciprocal between them.

Oh. That’s right, this doesn’t work out for him, does it?

That realization blows the wind right out of Peter’s sails. It doesn’t matter how much Peter likes Mr. Stark, because Mr. Stark is a grown man and wouldn’t have the slightest interest in him that way. He probably thinks of Peter as more of a responsibility than anything else. 'Yes, of course’ But of course he’d meant it in a friendly way. He probably thought Peter meant it in a friendly way too, because good kids don’t fall for their adult pseudo-father-figures. Good kids don’t  _ feel like this _ , too warm and too much, when they’re told that they’re good. Peter isn’t sure he’s really a  _ good kid _ for this. He’s over-thinking simple praise and friendly touches. He’s been ascribing too much,  _ far too much _ meaning to a look, which could have meant any number of other more benign things. Even on the  _ off chance _ that what Peter thought he had seen was true, it wouldn’t matter in the slightest. Mr. Stark was soon to be 40, a billionaire, a super hero, a celebrity, and Peter was all of a skinny 15 year old whose voice hadn’t dropped yet. Mr. Stark does not like him  _ that way _ , the way Peter want’s him too. He couldn’t.

The thought is blunt and painful, heavy in his chest. Peter rolls over onto his back, and stares up at the bunk above him. He feels too cramped, too compressed, and far too alone tonight. Peter wishes he were older. He wishes so desperately that he was older, that things were different. But he isn’t, he chides himself, and he needs to get over this. Mr. Stark is his mentor and his friend and that’s all he can be. He needs to accept that. If he doesn’t, if he keeps making a fool of himself over this, he’s going to loose the best thing in his life right now. He’s going to loose Mr. Stark, because there is no way the man is going to want to hang out with a teenager whose got a weird crush on him. Peter lays there in the dark, letting the exhaustion of lack of sleep from the past few days start to catch up to him. Eventually, he sleeps. Restless, rolling and tangling in his sheets.

When he wakes from a nightmare that night ( _Uncle Ben and the gunshot that killed him and the cold, cold lake water and drowning and being crushed in the dark_ ), he doesn’t call Mr. Stark and he doesn’t fall asleep again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one was soooo much longer than the last 2 for some reason? sorry lmao. I dont really set out with a word count plan or anything for these so expect a lot of variation tbh.
> 
> Writing for Peter is really really fun, esp in a situation like this. I recall being a young gay science teen who was absolutetly in love with one of my teachers because he was so nice to me and such a positive influence on my life, but like i was 15 so of course things did not work out the way my horny teenage self wanted them too. I feel u Peter, but thankfully because i am the writer, perhaps your gay science teen dreams can still come true. after we get through all the angst and drama of course.
> 
> writing this chapter made me depresst, working on the next one is only makin it worse lmaoooooo
> 
> Thanks for reading, yall. if u like it, let a bitch know!!!! see u in the next chap, kids <3

**Author's Note:**

> So, in the time between CACW and SMHC, i putting it down as Tony has def not heard from most of his old pals. Knows they got busted out, but for a variety of reasons no one is really ready to patch things up yet (tho tbh im considering writing that in later chapters so dont be surprised). Natasha is still technically an avenger, and comes by the compound once in a while between her other missions. Nat has never really been chatty with Tony, but right now theyre both not really talking much aside from whats necessary. Rhodey has physical therapy and military things to do, so its mostly Vision and Lonely Tony at the compound, and the JARVIS thing makes talking to Vis a lil uncomfortable probs. They still do avengers work together, theyre just not super close? Avengers HQ is still the compound upstate, and Tony had all avengers related things moved out of the tower (which we saw in Homecoming), but is keeping the property because 1) it would be hard to sell (because its big, expensive, and kind of a huge target) 2) theres always the risk of accidentally leaving something important or dangerous behind (a lot of the building has computer interfaces built in, and its just safer not to risk 3) its just a really convenient spot for Stark Industries. Its already got labs and offices and other shit, and moving back into the top floor would be easy for Tony. So he lives at the tower currently, and travels back to the compound for avengers business.
> 
> In regards to Pepper, I kinda felt like her popping up at the end of homecoming was like, outta left field. Idk. I really like Pepper! and this fic is DEF NOT ANTI-PEPPER, but i just feel like her and Tony’s old relationship problems haven’t changed, and therefore there’d be no reason for them to get back together, ya know? Like one of her big issues is that Tony does reckless Ironman shit, and she hates that cuz she doesn’t want that asshole to die. You cannot possibly tell me CACW wasnt reckless ironman shit. I could ~maybe~ see them getting back together in the circumstances of Pepper being super worried about Tony after what went down, and realizing she cares to much to leave, or something. But for the purposes of my fic, I’m gonna say that they decided that neither of them was going to change, so it was for the best that they just be friends. Pep is still Stark Industries CEO tho, and she’ll def pop up in this fic a few times and it’ll be great yall. i really really love Pepper Potts actually.
> 
> and for anyone thats curious, Im just gonna outright disregard infinity war.
> 
> TLDR;  
> \- Avengers Machine still busted  
> \- Pepper is outtie because honestly? Tony is a mess who are we kidding  
> \- Tony is Lonely and Depressed for these reasons  
> \- im gonna pretend i didnt see that engagement okay leave me olone  
> \- Tony is keeping the fucking tower, who could he even really sell it too??  
> \- infinity war who?
> 
> This fic was originally posted to my tumblr (@garbagesinboy, search for the tag CMM), so I actually have chapters 2 and 3 done already and will be putting them up as soon as I have time. chp 4 is currently in progress!!! if you like this, wanna see more, have some feedback for me, etc, please comment!!! i'd love to hear from yall.


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